Absence of the Heart
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: (Finished!) Heavy SLASH - C/J -- spoilers for Book 5. ^^;; ... written for twisted amusement. Christopher, Jalil, alcohol, doorknobs, and hormones are *really* an interesting mix.
1. When In Doubt, Get Laid

Absence of the Heart 

By Kay 

Disclaimer: Hell, if I owned Everworld, the world would be a much more insane place... that and Jalil would have to say the word "kitties" three times a book. Ayi. ^_^ If only... 

Author's Notes: Well, what *else* do I write? SLASH. ^_^;; Very big time this time-- no implication bull, this is making out, god-I-love-this-GUY-here M/M stuff. (How I love thee, slash!) No sex, mind you... but talk about it. Intimate situations. Idiotic cussing. Jalil not having control. MWAHAHAHAA. 

Jalil: o.o;; ... you are SO insane it's not funny. Let me guess, you shoved me with Christopher this time? Or have you decided to show the world how funny it is to have intimate meanings behind David's words to me half the time? -_- I swear... 

^^;; ... it's Christopher. 'gain. Sorry, Jalil-chan! Alright-- what else is need to be known? Umm... you'd bettera read Book 5, "Descover the Destroyer", cause this is when it takes place. I just... felt an urge to write it. ^^;; As usual. Eheheh... this is the scene where Jalil and Christopher are waiting to see if David carries through with Plan B before their "artificial hearts" fry inside of their chests. ::cackles:: And therefor, I had to write this. Mwahahaa. 

As usual, it's OOC and badly written. But I love you people for saying it's not. ::SHINE:: You reviewed my fics... ANYWAY. Enjoy the fic, yadda yadda, flame and throw hate bricks at me all you want, I'll just eat them... 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The silence was going to kill him before the heart frying thing did. 

That thought flitted briefly through his head for the millionth time that evening, and Christopher scowled heavily. It was far from the first time he'd thought it-- and nearly true, too. The silence was going to rip his mind apart, cast him into the loony bin, far before his heart went nuclear. Less work for Big and Crusty, Nighoggr, at least, right? Die of the frickin' quiet instead of explosion in his chest. 

Right. That would be the way to go. 

He sighed again, loud and heavy in the stillness. It was so... *silent*. Not just in his chest-- but there, too, there was no heartbeat, nothing that pounded noisily in the nothingness-- but everywhere around him now. Earlier, he'd thought that, in a place like Fairyland where everyone was busy, there'd always be something moving around. Some sound to echo in his ears, that was normal. 

But they'd given them a nice room in an inn, their contact had. The one they were making rich-- or Jalil was, at least, with that telegraph idea of his. The fairy guy had been more than happy to help them secure a place to sleep now that they'd made him richer than the king. The result was this; a comfortable room located in a nice but not fancy inn, with *no* room service (Christopher *had* checked) and lumpy but okay, decent beds. 

Correction: lumpy but okay, decent *bed*. Just one, mind you. 

Not that Christopher was complaining. 

It was one that was actually a lot better than what they'd all been sleeping on-- really. It was a hell of a lot nicer, with actual blankets and sheets and pillows. (Clean sheets are equal to heaven's bliss, he figured.) So it wasn't the bed, or the hotel room, or even the lack of room service that made him so nervous. Nervous enough to shut up and let the silence eat him alive. There was something else entirely that made him so irritated, when he should be relaxed, on this decent bed, for once not running for his life. 

And that one thing was currently ignoring him. Or sleeping. 

That seemed likely. Ever since Jalil and Christopher had decided to go to bed, instead of endure painful waiting, the dark eyed scientist had made it *painfully* clear that-- "If you bother me while I'm sleeping, I'll kill you in a thousand methods, each more painful than the next." With that, Jalil had curled up beneath the covers beside Christopher, shut his eyes, and hadn't spoken since. 

Christopher scowled to himself and up at the cieling above him. He really didn't like the quiet. Sure, it had it's uses-- when they were running for their lives (or hiding), and in cases that involved life threatening situations... sure, then he could see why quiet was good. But they were waiting for their deaths, waiting for the last moment when their hearts *might* implode within their chests. And damned if he was going to spend it in silence. 

"You do a great imitation of a rock, Jalil." 

Next to him, laying on his side with his back to Christopher's body, Jalil made a muffled sound that seemed to resemble, "Ch'," very well. Of course, it was hard to tell-- the dark teenager was curled up on the edge of the bed, determined not to be anywhere near anything resembling another body, and therefor his mouth was pressed against the pillow. 

But it sounded like "Ch'", so Christopher assumed that was it. 

"What was that?" Narrowing his eyes up at the cieling, Christopher tucked his hands under his head and smirked. "Oh, did I wake you up?" 

There was a tiny, dark mutter before Jalil's head rose from the pillow. Obviously, either he'd been asleep, or actually nearing the process-- his body tensed right away, loosing the relaxed posture of rest. Then he lifted his head again, and mumbled, "Christ'pher, what'd you *want*?" 

The blonde grinned widely. Plan A successfully implented-- Jalil was awake and talking, although somewhat blurrily, and obviously annoyed. Pleased, he answered gleefully, "The pleasure of your company, of course." 

"... oh jesus. I'm dead, amen't I?" Right away, Jalil jerked halfway up, leaning back on his elbow and twisting around so he stared up at the cieling-- and clumsily felt his chest. "I *am* dead. Christopher would never say he wanted the pleasure of my company." 

"I'm not that bad!" Christopher protested, frowning again. He glared at the boy next to him, sullenly adding, "And you're not dead, either. We're just missing our hearts, remember? Implodation threat?" 

"I don't think 'implodation' is a word." Jalil sighed softly to himself, but was apparently relaxing, letting his fingers gently fall to a rest over where his heart cavity was. A tiny frown flitted over his features, worry and irritation and fear. "But I know what you mean. David hasn't gotten through yet, I suppose..." 

"I bet he doesn't anyway," Christopher announced lightly, flopping back and looking up at the cieling. It was covered in shadowed cracks. "The general may be mighty, but he hath gotten sick... remember? Or have you forgot that part, O' Smart One?" 

Shaking his head in exasperation, Jalil didn't say a word. However-- as Christopher'd planned from the beginning-- he obviously gave up on sleep. Instead, he twisted and shifted so that he was laying on his other side, facing Christopher, with a tiny frown imprinted on his features. 

"What time is it?" he asked. 

"Time to get drunk." The blonde shook his head woefully. "Definatly time to get drunk." 

"Christopher, you always think it's time to get drunk." 

Cocking his head to the side, Christopher raised an eyebrow. "And you don't think that... right now, with the threat of our hearts going Ka-Boom on us... that we should get smashed off our asses?" 

"No, I don't think we should get smashed off our asses. You go get smashed off your ass. I'll stay here, with a nice sober one, thank you." 

"Stiff neck." Christopher yawned, blue eyes squeezing shut momentarily as he stretched. Almost absently, he listened for the sound of his heart rushing up as the blood went to his head-- but it wasn't there. His heart wasn't there. Then he opened his eye again, and turned to look into the darker, deeper eyes of his friend and comrade. Jalil simply looked back, serious and fretting at the same moment. 

"You know..." the blonde said slowly, and Jalil leaned forward to hear the nearly inaudible words. "We could die any minute..." 

A chill ran through the room like a frozen wall of frigid crystal-- iced over their spines and coating their minds with a thin veil of fear. Jalil shuddered without meaning to. 

"... and it looks like General David might not make it..." Christopher continued softly. He, too, seemed to shiver slightly at the implication, a distant and dead look entering his eyes. Almost automatically, his hand reached up to cover his heart, and he winced. 

"And we don't even know what time it is... so it could be *anytime*... we're just waiting..." 

The words weighed heavily on them both. 

Jalil felt the absence of his heart, felt it, and heard himself say, "You're right. We need to get drunk." 

"Atta boy." And Christopher grinned at him, pulling his hand away, as well as the chill atmostphere in the room. Once again, their breaths seemed to flow evenly, and their bodies relaxed. The world moved again, and there was a little hope. 

"I hope you like beer," Christopher said cheerfully, sliding off the bed. "'Cause that's all they have." 

Groaning, Jalil only shook his head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The world had never seemed so mixed up. 

"So... so who even knows... y'know... whether these planets have... like..." Christopher paused, blinking slowly down at the glass of beer-- somehow refilled although he swore it was empty a second ago. "Like..." he repeated, "... other life and stuff. Extra... extree... terres... extres... god damn it...!" 

"Extraterr... aliens," Jalil mumbled out to help. 

"Yeah. Like the X-Files." The blonde nodded sagely, and noticed that the bartender that had been serving them had filled up Jalil's glass also. Good service, in his opinion. Very good. 

"Well, there are aliens here... in Everworld..." Jalil interrupted his thoughts, staring up at the cieling vaguelly. "Sooo... they could be in our world... I mean, we're in both worlds- right? So they could be, too." 

Christopher let out a loud laugh that seemed out of place. "Is that your theory thing? That... that we're, like, all here so aliens could be, too?" 

"I don't know! I'm... argh... it's hard t'think..." 

"'Cause we're even more drunk than we planned to be! Mission accomplished!" 

"I can't believe y-you got me... got me..." Jalil paused, astonishment on his face. "D-d... what is it?!" 

"Drunk?" Christopher answered absently, a goofy grin spread widely across his own face. He tossed back another gulp of the bitter liquid with a satisfied giggle. "Drunk, Jalil... whooaa, man, we are *smashed*." 

"Drunk..." Jalil intoned to himself thoughtfully. His usually rigid posture was relaxed to the point where he was practically draped over the tavern table-- their hotel had thoughtfully supplied an easy to get to tavern downstairs, so at least they wouldn't have to walk far. 

"Drunk," Jalil repeated, his dark eyed widening almost innocently. "I h'ven't... been drunk for... er..." 

"To looong... way to long. Should have done this ages ago," Christopher mumbled to himself gleefully. He smacked the table with his hand, nodding over at Jalil with a funny gleam in his eyes. "Y'know... before this would be th' last time I get to." 

"Last time?" 

"'Cause..." he answered with a grimace, "Remember we're close t'being burnt from the inside out? Our General hasn't even succeeded yet an'... and it's been..." He shook his head, blue eyes clouding over darkly. "To long..." And he wasn't sure if he meant waiting to get drunk, or to long since their "leader" had left them waiting. Jalil apparently didn't know either, just made a face and looked back down at his drink. 

Finally, after the silence stretched on, Jalil spoke up suddenly-- not as clear sounding, but a bit more coherent than their earlier discussion of "alien life in the real world". 

"You know, I bet he's not even trying to save us. Wanna bet Senna got her paws on him again." 

"Bitch," Christopher agreed sadly, taking another drink. "It's a sad thing to see, when a man gets whipped into place by a girl with half the muscle strength he has." 

"Senna doesn't need muscles... she has magic," the dark eyed teenager said in disgust, shaking his head. He moved as if to take another sip from his own refilled beer, but changed his mind and scooted it away from his elbow at the last minute. He could thankfully already feel his head become clearer-- he'd insisted on a light alcohol content. "'Sides... I seem to remember you goin' off to save her, too, that one time. With... uh... the dragon and the knights." 

"Galahad. That's right, I 'member..." Christopher chuckled slightly. "Okay, so maybe she had me for a while, too... y'know, she's hard to resist. A man needs a woman in his life to make... you know, things feel okay again." 

"You're talking about... what? Love? Sex?" Jalil scowled, frowning down at the table like it'd personally insulted him. "I don't think Senna gives either of them-- her definition of 'love' has got to be seriously freaky and twisted, man." 

"Ewww... love and sex with Senna. Gross." Christopher made a bland face. "Like touching a rock-- cold, inmovable, and you get no where with it. Unless you're David, but that's just because you're a freakin' puppet that does her bidding." 

"Right," the dark skinned boy agreed, eyes flashing in irritation. "I bet he forgot all about us for her." 

"Stupid pathetic wanna-be hero boy-" 

"-off doing the nasty with the witchy woman-" Jalil interrupted, grimacing. 

"- and not giving a damn whether we fry from the inside out." 

Having finished that, Christopher slammed his hand on the table again, forcing himself to push down until he could support standing up slightly. "And worst 'f all... I'm going to die seriously sex-deprived myself! I need to get laid. Badly." A mournful look crossed his face. "Sheesh, and you'd think the babes would be clamouring for me... A man isn't a man without getting some before he dies of heart implodations." 

Jalil muttered something unaudible, and suddenly reached out to grab his beer glass, still full. Tilting his head back, he drowned half of it, before pushing it away again and gasping for air. Blinking, Christopher watched curiously. 

"What'd you say?" he asked innocently. 

Frowning and looking slightly bothered by the question, Jalil just shook his head. He stared down at the table, but not before Christopher glimpsed the slight darkening around his cheeks as he flushed hotly. The idea appealed to the blonde-- he'd never seen his stoic, stiff-necked friend ever blush before or look flustered. 

"What is it?" he pushed, insisting. "C'mon, you can tell me, man... I won't remember it in th' morning anyway..." 

Christopher almost started giggling hysterically, when Jalil's face peeked up into his, still brightly flushed, complete with a slight sulk to it. 

"I'm..." 

"Yes?" the blonde prodded, still grinning widely. Jalil made a bland face, before burying his face in his hands and muttering, 

"M' still a... you know..." 

There was a moment of confused silence. And then Christopher got the meaning. 

"You're a *virgin*?!" he shrieked, laughing madly-- and displaying this fact to the entire tavern. Which wouldn't matter anyway, as the only ones there in the hotel tarvern this late were a few pass-out drunks not even listening, and the waitress who was currently ignoring them. She'd been doing so for an hour, at least. 

"Shut up!" Jalil hissed, deeply dark eyes flashing in humiliation. "You son of a--" 

"I just... can't believe..." Christopher let out another odd giggle, wondering dimly if he was even making sense on this train of thought. "What about girlfriends? One night stands?! Hookers?!" 

"Jesus Christ, I'm not that kind of person!" the teenager wailed in response, burying his face in his arms again-- a rather cute gesture. And sadly, Christopher reflected with more laughter, Jalil was a rather cute and emotional drunk. He'd have to drag him out to get him smashed more often, considering if they lived til morning. Until then, he could just tease him. 

"I just can't believe you haven't... okay, anything? You've done nothing at all?" Christopher pushed curiously, grinning in sadistic intent and mock friendly bonding. He pushed Jalil's arm gently away from his face, revealing what could easily be taken for a sulky, hurt expression even on the face of this particular person. Dark eyes blinked owlishly at him, followed by a tiny frown. 

"... nothing like *that*, no. And shut up an' leave it alone, jerk." 

"What about men?" 

Another little silence fell about them. Jalil looked shocked and furious at the same time. 

Quite simply, Christopher wasn't sure what prompted him to ask that either-- one minute he was wondering whether Jalil was always this easy-going and adoringly odd when he was drunk -- and the next minute his mouth was opening to ask that stupid question. 

Seeing no other way to get around it, he tried shrugging lightly. "Well... sorry, I didn't think you'd be upset if I asked. I mean, you don't exactly go around hounding girls, man." 

"Because I'm not you," Jalil snapped crossly, trying to look intimidating with a glare, but only managing to deepen the pensive sulk he was using. Something told him that if he wasn't drunk, he'd be kicking Christopher's ass that moment. "I don't chase anything in a... a skirt or shorts or whatever you like to see." 

"Uh-huh... true, true. I like 'em as they come." Drawling the words out, Christopher slouched down in his chair and gazed earnestly into Jalil's eyes. "But, really... have you ever thought about it an' all? I mean..." 

"What do you mean?" Sighing heavily, the dark eyed teenager shook his head in woeful irritaiton. The pleasent 'drunk haze' was starting to fade. "I don't understand you sometimes, Chris'pher..." 

"I know, I don't understand me either." Making his voice serious, he added, "It's to bad, y'know... if our Napoleon guy doesn't come through for us... this could be it. The last night. And we're discussing sexuality an' stuff." 

"Sounds perfectly reasonable to me," Jalil said matter of factly. "People do creepy stuff when they're about to die. I read about... this one guy, he was dying of lung stuff, and he went out and bought every single James Bond video available, because he promised his kid he'd watch them with him someday." 

Christopher paused, opened his mouth, then blinked. "Damn... that's really sad. I mean, poor guy." 

"Yeah..." Jalil sighed. "But he lived. Treatment. I wonder if we will...?" 

"Probably not. We're gonna fry worse than onion rings in a fast food grill, my friend. Only we don't get eaten, let's hope." 

Caught off guard and more at ease than ever, Jalil laughed at the joke. "It'd be nice to escape uneaten, yeah." He chuckled to himself again, for no real reason except to hear it, and then was surprised to catch Christopher staring at him in surprise and admiration. "... what?" 

"You laughed." Christopher's voice was awed, delighted. "I mean, you laugh a lot... but it's usually... cynical and weird. Kinda distant. But... damn, you laugh cool when you mean it. I need to get you drunk more!" Some part of his mind added silently, 'You have a great smile when you actually mean to use it'. At this point, Christopher blushed to himself and tried to vanish the oddly placed thought away from his mind. 

Strangly, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea that was circulating in his head. 

"We probably won't live long enough for that," Jalil reminded him, in response to his eagerness to get drunk again. "We're going to die... um... any hour now, probably. It sucks, but it's true. Besides, at least this way we won't have hangovers from hell." 

"I wish I could buy all the James Bond movies now. Or at least have *some* television. If we die here, and just end up in the real world, I'm going to spent hours just watching 'Friends' and laying on the couch." Christopher chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. There was a plan still going through his mind, insane and crazy and just *wrong* in some fashion... but he wasn't exactly sober or in the mood to be rational... 

"Sounds like a good plan..." Jalil mumbled. "TV. I don't watch a lot of it, but... hey, if I live, I'll make a note to see every 'Friends' episode they have." 

"Yeah. I have a better idea, though," Christopher interrupted suddenly, staring with suddenly intense blue eyes-- eyes trained on Jalil's face with uncanny seriousness. The idea that had been running through his mind was starting to display itself more. "A much better idea. So this way we don't waste our last hours... an' also, we take care of your losing virginity and me gettin' laid problem." 

Frowning harder at him, Jalil shook his head warily. "I'm not into picking up strange women on the streets, Christopher... don't you have better taste than that?" 

"I have *much* better taste than that!" Christopher cried, insulted and indignant. He reached out, grabbing Jalil's slender arm roughly, and gave his stunned face a large, vicious smirk. Jalil just stared wide eyed up into his face. 

"Christopher...?" he asked softly, suddenly feeling much more cautious than he had been. This was getting to strange, much to fast for his taste, and the fact that he was still feeling the effects of the alochol weren't helping. 

"Yeah, *much*, much better taste.." Christopher repeated in a low, amused whisper, and leaned down with slow, obvious intent for his friend's face. 

Jalil tensed... drew up his muscles into his thin shoulder blades to hold himself rigidly... but didn't break away. Even though the moment Christopher's breathe brushed lightly against his face, he knew what was going to be done. Still, even then-- he only squeezed his dark eyes shut tightly. After all, how could something like this hurt, if he was going to die any moment anyway? 

And all thoughts left his head as Christopher kissed him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

To be Continued-- I know, I know. I suck at writing, it's OOC, it's just weird... ^^;; Oh well! 

Fixed this chapter today. Was v. annoyed it was broken. Grrrrr. 

Thanks to all the great reviewers who let me know! ^__^ ::glomps:: And to any curious ones-- third chapters almost done, and it's much more serious... 


	2. Why the Doorknob Cried

Absense of the Heart 

By Kay 

Author's Notes: Ignoring disclaimer, la la la, already did one in Chapter one... ::cackles:: I have ESCAPED IT. Eheheh- anyway! More slashy wonder with Christopher and Jalil! JOOOOY! ^___^ I... okay, yes, I wrote this AGAIN in the early hours of the morning. I should try writing in the afternoon, see how my work turns out THEN. When I'm coherent! HAH! .... right then, moving on. 

Thanks again for all the reviews! ::blushes:: Oh, and thanks everyone else, you mean so much to me! ^___^ I feel loved, wah. Hope you enjoy this part! SLASH! Ahahahaaa! ... eheh. 

"You can swing!" -- Jalil (this is an actual quote. I just laughed.) 

~~~~ 

Somewhere in the back of Jalil's hazy mind, someone was yelling at him. 

It started the moment Christopher had woken him up from his sleep, then brought him down to the tavern bar to get drunk. Then it was a loud, harsh voice that strictly commanded him to stay in bed -- the voice of reason and logic, probably. He listened to that voice an awful lot. After a few drinks, it'd faded to a low steady whine that chanted, "you are an idiot" repeatedly. Once he got smashingly *drunk*, the voice of reason turned into a hazy muttering at the back of his mind, threatening him with death if he didn't stop acting stupid. 

Now? Well, Christopher's lips were on his and it was warm, _very_ warm suddenly, and his head felt lighter than it had in ages, like everything had leaked out of it so it was hollow. And it was very warm. Christopher had his hands gripping his forearms, pulling his face and tilting it so they met perfectly. Warmth. And Jalil wondered now, if somehow that voice of reason was quiet or if it was dead for good. 

_'What the hell are you doing with yourself?! Are you letting him *kiss* you?! You *idiot*!'_

Nevermind -- yup, that voice of reason was really screaming at him now. 

And then, before he could catch up with coherent thought, Christopher pulled back. The warmth left his lips, left him sucking in air deeply, staring up into those blue eyes. But the blond still had his fingers clenched into Jalil's forearms, white marks on mocha. They stared at each other, wide eyed and uncertain. 

"Well," Christopher finally said. He wet his lips nervously, and looked at Jalil with anxious eyes. "That was..." 

"Warm," the dark eyed teenager mumbled, unthinkingly. Almost immeadiatly, the dark skin of his face shadowed with a blush at the slip. "I mean--" 

"Yeah, really warm. You're right, that was... that was cool." Chewing on his bottom lip, Christopher nodded to himself, but didn't take his eyes off Jalil's face. "Um... yeah, I liked that. Uh, you? I mean, was it okay for you?" 

"...mm." Coherence had fled altogether, leaving Jalil feeling drained and lethargic, distantly making sounds while he was watching Christopher's lips with a hazy facination of one not altogether there. While earlier his mind had been buzzed by the alcohol, now it was concerned with the sensations of kissing the teenager in front of him. 

Was it okay? Warmth.... No. Hn, let's move on from that. Should he tell Christopher to do it again? It wasn't like either of them really knew what they were doing, after all. And it wasn't like there'd ever be another chance to-- because they might die... die before the night was over, why not? It was... warm. 

... god, he was drunk. 

This was making no sense whatsoever -- rational and logic were quickly fleeing the confines of Jalil's cobwebbed mind, swatting at the slow haze of alcohol as they went. Perhaps that was why Jalil did was he did next. That or the present threat of dying a virgin nudged him along a little. Although later he would most definatly blame the alcohol. 

"Christopher..." There was an uncharacteristic whine in Jalil's tone. He looked up at the blonde with wide, unblinking eyes that pleaded with an amount of force that no human should be allowed to be in control of. 

"What is it, huh?" Christopher licked his lips, darkened blue eyes fixated on his friend's open and relaxed face. 

Jalil narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you gonna do it again or _not_?" 

"... eh? Oh... _Oh_, that," Christopher stammered, before coughing lamely. "Well... uh, sure. Why not?" He bent again quickly, capturing the tempting lips offered up to him, searing the other's mouth with his own. Almost right after first contact, Jalil's slim arms reached up and hesitantly clutched his shoulders, anchoring each other. 

It was like nothing Jalil had ever experienced. Not with Miyuki, not with any other meaningless girl, this was _different_, in a way his clouded mind couldn't comprehend now. Maybe never could. The heat that glowed between them, fierce and sweeping, that made him press harder, hold on tighter. Christopher made a sound in his throat, more of approval than uncertainty, before attempting to force open the lips he was plundering. 

Almost automattically, Jalil let him. 

It was burning, gentle and tight against Jalil's entire body, the feeling of the intimate contact shaking him. From the trembling of Christopher's hands as they wound around near his hips, the blonde wasn't uneffected either. There was a desperate, shaky kind of demanding in the way he moved. 

For some reason, that caused a perverse, deep rooted pleasure in Jalil's mind. 

_'I like him like this. I like him wanting to do this.'_ The whisper of his own mind made him shudder tightly, and he leaned up farther into the kiss to banish it. _ 'I don't care why anymore...'_

By the time they parted, completely ignoring every soul in the tavern that could be watching them, the decision had been made. 

"L-let's go back... to th'room," Christopher ordered breathlessly, pulling back to stare into Jalil's face, his own blue oceaned eyes smouldering. Jalil's breath caught, dizzy, uncertain-- 

"But we--" 

"The lady... she's starin' at us." At that, both of them glanced off nervously to the right. And indeed, the tavern waitress was giving them a piercing, dark glare that plainly said she didn't want this sort of entertainment. Both of them flushed guiltily and looked away. 

"O-oohh. Whoops." Jalil wrinkled his nose up, and-- to Christopher's shock and glee-- let out a small giggle. The unexpected sound was enough to facinate the blonde, who never before had heard his companion let anything so ridiculous come out of his mouth. 

Some part of his mind decided that the kissing may have screwed up the way Jalil's lips worked. Instead of spouting facts and insults, they were giggling. But since Jalil had a frighteningly _adorable_ giggle, that was fine. 

"Do that again," he demanded, interest sparking in his face. 

"W-what?" Jalil's gaze focused on him, and he concentrated. "Hmm? Do what?" 

"Do that... that laugh thing. Your giggle." 

Jalil blinked at him cluelessly. When the words finally sank in, Christopher got a glare and a sulking near-pout to the mouth for his troubles. "I... do _not_ giggle." 

"You just did," Christopher protested with a steadily increasing whine in his voice. "You giggled when you saw the tavern lady lookin' at you. I liked it. Do it again." 

"I don't giggle for-- for anyone!" 

"You're about to giggle for me," Christopher said steadily, with a calm resolute voice that booked no arguement. "Do it again, or I won't... I won't kiss you! Again, I mean!" 

Jalil gave him a stubborn, heated glare again. "Nuh-uh. No way. I do _not_ giggle." 

"...whatever." Sighing slightly, the blonde leaned forward again, a slow grin etching its way over his features with obvious intent. The look was enough to make Jalil wary, who was reminded of a predator who had just acquired a prey. 

"Let's go... back to the room, 'kay?" His voice was husky against Jalil's ear -- and Christopher's mind jumped with glee and amusement as he made the dark eyed boy shiver. 

"Mmm... dunno... we're drunk, y'know." 

"We could also die any minute. S'okay." 

"... hmmm. If you say so." And then Jalil was lost, as Christopher's lips decended to his once again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Jalil wasn't exactly sure how they managed to get upstairs-- he suspected the tavern woman was so sick of their groping in public, that she's opened every exit so they wouldn't trip into anything. He didn't remember even leaving the room, just a long line of stumbling against walls. Partly due to the alcohol and sitting for so long, but mostly due to the fact he kept trying to stop Christopher's hands from going up his shirt in public. 

... the voice of reason and logic was really quite upset. 

"What room did we 'ave?" Christopher's voice was muffled against his collarbone, where he seemed to be facinated by the graceful curve of Jalil's neck. The dark eyed boy squirmed against the wall where Christopher had pinned him -- a quick scan over one of the shoulders showed a long row of doors. 

"... erm." 

He blinked slowly to himself, trying to recall which of the many rooms they'd placed themselves in. Surprisingly, there had been some order to the system, with numbers scrawled in black ink on every door, similar to the old world's way. However, this didn't help him now-- as he couldn't remember which one. 

"S'gotta be around here somewhere," Christopher muttered, raising his head briefly to glance around. Jalil squirmed slightly in his hold, suddenly realizing there was a doorknob digging into the small of his back. He'd been slammed against a door. Theirs? 

He squinted up at the number-- upside down. 

"... maybe if we knocked at them all," the blonde was suggesting slowly, obviously reluctant to think about anything beyond where they were going. 

"We'd get kicked out," Jalil said. He shivered slightly as Christopher's hands returned to wandering, and the boy grinned widely at him. 

"Or we could forget the room, an' use th'door." 

"Wha-?!" Whatever protest had been on his lips-- died. Christopher was kissing him again. And suddenly the doorknob or the people on the other side didn't matter so much, especially when compared to the lovely sensations Christopher was generating. He melted into the body pressed against his, willingly accepting the attention eagerly, although the tiny voice of reason still muttering in the back of his mind... well, wasn't happy. At all. 

_'Will not give in! Danger-- you will remove his hands from sneaking under your shirt at once! Stop that!'_

_'Shut up,'_ Jalil calmly informed his inner rationality. _ 'I'm getting really sick of you.'_

_'It's for your own good-- you'll hate yourself tomorrow. You're drunk, not thinking straight--'_

_'Hmm, definatly not thinking "straight"...' _

The voice of rationality snorted. _ 'And now you're making sexuality jokes. That's it. Go to bed and sleep it-- oh, whoa, hold it, what the _hell_ is he doing-?!'_

"Christopher, I'm havin' an intimate conversa... talk. With m'sensible side. Stop that." 

"Who?" the blonde demanded absently, more concerned with the fact that no matter how hard he tugged at the hem of Jalil's shirt, it wouldn't go up. The fact that it was because the black teenager was pressed against a door, thereby removing any way to get the shirt to move up, completely passed Christopher by. Not that this mattered. 

"My voice of logic," Jalil replid lamely, trying to figure out dazedly why that sounded just plain bad to his ears. Wasn't that the stuff loony people talked about? "I'm not crazy. I really mean it," he added quickly. 

"Uh-huh... how-- damn it, how does this thing work?" 

"I don't think we can have sex in th'halls, Christ'pher..." 

"Why the hell not?" the blonde demanded viciously, glaring suspiciously to both sides. "Nobody's here. Can't find th'room. Kinky, too." 

Jalil attempted a deep hearted glare of irritation at him-- but forgot where it was going, and ended up clinging to Christopher's shoulders as the other boy pressed his body against him. He let out a shaky breath at the heat their bodies radiated through their jeans, and flushed slightly at the intimacy and what it implied. "Jesus c-christ..." 

"Nope... but you can call me that, if it makes ya feel better," Christopher piped up cheerfully. 

"I..." 

"Yeah?" Those startling blue eyes locked onto his, and Jalil let out a slow breath that sounded suspiciously like a growl of sorts. 

"There's a doorknob diggin' into my back. Get offa me, and help me find the room." 

"Oh. Uh, okay." Christopher didn't move. 

"I _mean_ it, Chris'pher. I don't want to scar the poor souls walking through here..." The dark-haired boy grimaced in a moment of lucancy. "Like, what would happen if David suddenly came through lookin' for us? And you're, um, um... doing that. Whatever... yeah." 

There was a moments pause as they entertained that image. 

"... actually, tha's pretty damn funny." 

"Christopher!" Jalil sputtered over the sound of hysterical laughter. "Shut up, it's not funny--!" 

The comedian of the group was practically crying, he was laughing so hard. Burying his face in the juncture between Jalil's shoulder and neck, he giggled madly. "Th-that's _great_..." 

Jalil let out a huff, rolling his eyes vaguely towards the cieling in exasperation. "Are you going t'get us to the room or not? Don't have all night, y'know-- because of the heart implodation threat and all." That seemed to sober him up slightly; Christopher peered up at his face, still grinning but without the hysterical laughter that accompanied it. Without a word of apology or warning, the blonde straightened and dragged Jalil off again-- sending him wobbling as he was towed down the hallway top speed. 

"H-hey! Slow down!" 

"Can't!" Christopher yelled loudly enough for half the hotel to wake up and hear. "Gotta find our room so we can have fantastic, end of the world sex!" 

Jalil groaned and closed his deep mahogany eyes, trying to stop the dizzy tilt of the world as his friend ran down the hallway checking the numbers, dragging him along. To make matters worse, (despite the dizziness, alcohol, state of wanting Christopher _now_, ect), his small voice of logic was piping up again, annoyingly. 

_'See? Don't you wish you'd listened to me now?'_ it demanded smugly. 

_'... oh shut up.'_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

To Be Continued... in part three! In which, no, a room is not found-- but there's always the "Alternative Places That You've Never Thought Of Before". ^_^ And more giddiness and random things. Jalil being stubborn and having second thoughts, a moment of seriousness, kissing eeeee, and we find out a nice little fact about... well something that I can't tell you yet. Hah! 

... actually, I hated this part. I wrote this on a sugur high. It's graduated from a semi-interesting slash to a humor piece. *DAMN IT*. ::wails:: Ah-- at least it's still got the making out, right? Eheheh... if you can ignore the bad humor... and the fact that they're terribly OOC... and that... well, I have *no* idea what it's like to be drunk, or how normal people act drunk... ::sweatdrops:: So... erm... ignore all that! Enjoy it anyway! Hah! ... right then. 

... if you hit me with something, at least make it semi-soft? Please? ::pleadingly:: 

To those who care! "Banana Fish" 7 comes out in November. MWAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAA. 

~~~~ 


	3. Frozen Toes n' Love Spats

Absence of the Heart 

By Kay 

Author's Notes: Did not like chapter 2! I wanted this to be more serious. ::pouts:: So therefor, I've relinquished a little of the humor in favour of writing more slashy undertoned angst. Just a bit. ^_^ This is where it starts to get interesting. 

... I'm going to disappoint the mass who want me to write a lemon. Can't do 'em. To shy. 

It *will*, however, get pretty intimate, so to speak. There will be implication of stuff, *maybe*. (Have no idea how this ends...) Though I have a pretty good idea of what's happening next, wah. 

Also-- I'm going to be an annoying and bad writer and switch POV halfway through this. MWAHAHAHHAHAAAA! ... I suck. Ahem. Anyway, I just felt like it, even though it's horrible taste. It just makes more sense anyway, so oh well. 

... and last, but not least. THERE'S A CRICKET IN MY HOUSE. x_x 

~~~~ 

They didn't find the room. 

Christopher, after finally running out of energy while dragging poor Jalil to and fro, gave up after accidently bursting in on two poor guests. Said guests were actually man and wife, former quite burly and formidable, and in easy capability to rip them both into shreds. (Thankfully, even as the man started towards them threatingly, he seemed to realize he was still without much clothing.) Naturally, a quick exit was made-- straight out of the hotel. 

Now, walking around hurriedly in the dark, Jalil was feeling very irrational and annoyed. 

And sober. Very sober. 

"What the hell were you thinking?! You weren't even sure if it was the room, and you went ahead without even checking! What if we'd gotten killed?!" 

Christopher glanced back at him, with a serious study that was unlike his character. After a moment, he said, "I liked you better when you were drunk." 

"Oh, _thanks_," Jalil replied sarcastically. "I liked you better when I was drunk, too." 

Opening his mouth like he was about to make a stinging retort, Christopher stopped and quickly pursed his lips together. After that, the blonde turned ahead to watch the buildings for a new hotel, and refused to speak. Which was fine with the dark-eyed teenager trailing after him, shivering. It was cold out, chilling the skin revealed by his loose garments-- they'd left their heavy clothing in the hotel room. 

"Maybe we should go back," he finally said quietly. "I remember the room number..." 

"Oh, _now_ you remember it," Christopher snapped, refusing to look at him-- there was embarrassment and shameful fury colouring his words. The mere sound of it made Jalil wince. Obviously Christopher was sober by now, as well as he, and very upset at what had taken place... or would have taken place. 

It also made Jalil upset... but he felt a little hurt, too. 

_'You didn't have to sound like it would have been awful...'_ some quiet part of him whispered. A part that Jalil's quickly and angrily shoved somewhere else, not liking the sound of it. 

Of course Christopher would have hated the idea once he was thinking straight. Christopher didn't even seem to like gay people-- he was a racist, after all, most of them held the same ideas. And he certainly didn't like Jalil any time in their short history, always annoyed or making cruel jibes at him about his skin colour or origin. No, he didn't like Jalil at all-- excluding the past few hours... hours of things Jalil hadn't dreamed of seeing in Christopher... 

He remembered their conversation in the bar. Vaguely, at least. Parts of where they had talked about things they'd actually agreed on-- silly things, sometimes, but mutal agreements all the same. And the look of Christopher laughing, the light playing on his blonde hair like streams of sunbeams. The jokes they'd made, stupid as they were, without any thought to being mean. And the intensity of those dark blue eyes when he leaned forward to kiss him-- 

_'Don't think about it anymore. You'll hate yourself for it.'_

It didn't matter anymore, anyway. Christopher wasn't warm anymore. He was like a statue, silent and unmoving as he walked ahead of Jalil, showing only the straight curve of his back. 

If Jalil had a heart then... and not a ruby glittering in his chest... it might have contracted painfully. 

_'For a while... it was nice to be liked by you...'_

For a moment, Jalil's eyes flashed in dark, silent regret as they watched Christopher hurry ahead without looking back once to make sure his quiet companion was still there. A deep regret and longing. 

But only for a moment. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Christopher was going insane. 

_'God, what was I thinking?! Hello, earth to brain, that's Jalil you were ready to screw senseless. Not just some random_ chick.' 

It wasn't the same with a random woman-- not in any way. He'd always went out with them first, never was a total jerk, not the kind of prick just in it for sex. Well, maybe that was part of it, but he had his dignity, really. What he was doing with Jalil not so long ago... was a totally different matter. 

What had he been thinking? Obviously he hadn't been. Jalil was-- well, Jalil. And decidingly not female. And Jalil -- stern, conceding, untouchable Jalil, the know-it-all with an attitude that could freeze flame in its path -- was not his type. The black teenager had a tongue sharper than Senna's, which had already caused Christopher considerable grief, and generally just pissed him off. What on earth could have spurred him to do something so stupid as to try getting involved with _Jalil_? 

He scowled, point blank refusing to look at the boy following behind him, for fear of what he'd see. Was Jalil just as ashamed and furious as he was? As disgusted? 

_'Neither of you were disgusted when you were trying to screw each other in the hallway,'_ his inner conscious sang in amusement. A quick flash-- the memory of the feel of Jalil's slender form fitting perfectly against his body. Sudden heat, unexpected, flooded him at the image. 

Christopher flushed suddenly, uncomfortable. 

_'Admit it-- you haven't had someone feel that good with you in a long time... he was--'_

Christopher grimaced quietly, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as though to banish his traitorous thoughts from his mind. 

_'I didn't want him. I wanted someone--_ anyone. _He was just... there, and we were drunk, and the fear of dying--'_

Recalling again why his heart wasn't thudding in his chest, Christopher silently cursed to himself. Where was David, anyway? Where was their leader while they walked, shivering through a streetway lined with closed stores, unable to find a new place to stay yet? It would be a while before he'd risk the hotel again-- because of that big, hairy freak of nautre chasing their asses with about twice as much muscle to use than them. 

And he realized, with a sick lurch of his stomach, he had seen him and Jalil. In fact, at least a few people had been in the tavern during their little 'make out session', he was sure of it. 

_'They probably believe we're lovers. We're together.'_

_'You almost were,'_ the other side of him said softly. And yet again, infuriatingly, a memory through a drunken haze of open and uncertain dark, mahogany eyes swept through him... staring up before he kissed the lips that belonged with them. Jalil had beautifully strange eyes when he-- 

"What do we do now?" Jalil's voice interrupted, cutting off both his thoughts and anger at them. Christopher refused to glance back or answer, but knew from the rigid tone of voice that Jalil's eyes were no longer readable or emotional. That was who he was-- who Christopher hated with a passion. That stoic expression... which only a while earlier had been smiling and laughing radiantly... With actual happiness he'd never heard from such a contained person. 

_'If only he smiled more often...'_ another betraying thought mused in his mind. It was an unfamiliar sentiment that Christopher didn't appreciate. 

_'I do not want to think about him, not even look at him,'_ Christopher chanted darkly to himself. They passed a tavern that was open-- passed without a word, acknowledging silently that it wasn't worth checking out. _'I don't care about what happened, it was a mistake...'_

Was it, though? His head rebelled at the implication of his memories-- complete willingness. A mistake... but he'd known, at the time, exactly who it was and what it'd meant. Knew the person in his arms, the warmth and sweetly addicting taste of those kisses, was all Jalil. Never imagined someone so cold could be so much like molten fire to the touch. He'd wanted to capture that life, that fire, all for himself, keep it close to him while his heart was away. 

_'I wanted him.'_

It was a cold splash of ice water to Christopher's cozy, comfortable world. So was the next thought. 

_'I still do.'_

He felt a sickly, uneasy feeling rise in his stomach, and forced it down. Stumbled a bit over the ground, straightened, refused to look at Jalil, and kept going on without a word. Surely that wasn't the case after all. There was nothing to say. Nothing, except-- 

"Where should we go?" Jalil asked crossly, repeating his unanswered question from earlier. From behind Christopher, he sounded like a sullen child. "It's freezing out here, and walking around in circles isn't going to help us much." 

Christopher scowled, clenching his teeth and moving resolutely on. He had the terrible feeling that if he opened his mouth now, all the upset and confusion inside him was going to spew out-- in the form of something very, very stupid. Probably something he didn't want to say right then. 

"Well?" continued Jalil, anger starting to lace the heated words. "Are you ignoring me now? Jesus, Christopher--" 

"Shut up, I'm trying to think!" So much for keeping silent. Christopher almost slapped himself-- there was no way this would turn out good. Nothing to do, nothing except find somewhere and hope to god that his heart imploded. If he was dead, he wouldn't have to deal with this situation. Heart implodation was looking brighter and brighter every second. 

Sure enough, Jalil rose to the challenge in fury. "What?! Think about what-- it doesn't take a lot of thought to find a damn hotel, genius. If you haven't noticed, we've passed about three so far. Any plan on checking those out? Are you brain dead or something?" 

"Three? God, why didn't you _tell_ me--" 

"Screw you, Christopher," Jalil responded quietly, cold steel under his voice. "Screw you. What now, huh? Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the night, until we freeze to death? Just because you can't deal with some shit? I mean... can't you even look at me?!" 

The last part had been shouted, and suddenly Christopher felt a thin hand snatch his arm tightly. He was whirled around to face Jalil's dark flashing eyes. They were cold, angry, upset-- and... pained? Staring dumbly down at the boy, the blonde felt his mind go blank for a moment. 

_'Did I hurt him? How could anyone hurt the almighty, untouchable Jalil?'_

It was a dangerous thought. He didn't want to persue it. Instead, he glared at Jalil with a stubborn gaze that he hoped looked fierce. 

"What's your problem, Jalil? If you want out of the cold so bad, why haven't you found us somewhere to stay yet, huh? Or are none of those hotels good enough for you?" 

Jalil scowled at him. After a second of staring at each other, though, the mocha-skinned boy sighed in disgust and looked away. "Look... we aren't getting anywhere standing here. Arguing won't get us warm beds and blankets, okay?" 

"No duh, Sherlock. I knew you were a genius for something." 

It was subtle-- but Christopher, somehow newly intuned with capturing Jalil's emotions through his eyes-- saw the brief shine of hurt. Sudden, unexpected, and so quickly removed that he wasn't even sure it was real. There was nothing but firm resolve and cool confidence to sheild it afterwards-- the reality of who Jalil was. Or at least seemed to be. 

It disturbed him to see Jalil's vunerability-- what little there was, at least. Disturbed, intrigued, and facinated him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to never see the mask of strength fall again, or if he desired to rip it away for good. To discover whether it was a mask or really Jalil's true core of being. 

And when considering this, Jalil surprised him yet again. 

"I'm not a genius. If I were smart, I would have never agreed to get drunk with you, and we wouldn't be here right now. Cold, hungry, shelterless, and stuck with this gaping hole even bigger than the one we had between us before tonight. We've always hated each other, Christopher," and here Jalil took a deep breath of frigid air, "... but now it's worse. And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't take your incapibility to deal with change out on _me_." 

The blonde gaped at him for a second, before feeling a strange sort of anger rise up in him. Flushing, he retorted back-- not even thinking of the consequences his words could give out-- a single, sharp reply. 

"The only change _I_ see... is you're more of an unsufferable bastard than before. One not even worth giving a damn about." 

Jalil's face gave no reaction except a set, blank look. Christopher felt the fury intensify at the nonexpressive features-- and was filled with a strange desire to break them, shatter that uncaring mask all over the ground they stood on... all over the ground in shining shards of the strength he pretended to have. Might have. 

_'... make him_ care.' 

"... someone who isn't even human half the time..." 

_'That's good, _break _it...'_

"... who isn't worth trying to love..." 

_'Make him loose his control...'_

"... and not even worth trying to fuck anymore." 

_'There.'_

There. 

It seemed deathly quiet when Christopher fell silent, drained and filled with a detached sort of concern. He watched the boy across from him, looked at the dark eyes that still gazed expressionlessly into his. There was no emotion on Jalil's face, no pain or sorrow or anger, nothing but a slate of fresh emptiness. His hands were clenched at his sides, but in a frozen, absent-minded sort of way that told nothing. 

He waited. And then Jalil took a breath. 

It shook in the air. 

And when Jalil opened his mouth to reply, nothing came out but a soft, choked sound. And with it, a dull sort of panic swept across his features, and Christopher said nothing and did absolutely nothing, until that panic turned into a crumbling mess of raw feeling. Pain, fear, anger, aching-- 

_'There._

Just as soon as it started, though, it was gone-- Jalil's face turned away for a moment, hiding the beautiful array of emotions. And in the stillness of the air, he whispered raggedly, "I... I hate you." He paused, and with a quavering voice that held even more conviction, "I _hate_ you." 

By the time the words sunk into Christopher's stunned mind, it was to late. Jalil was running-- back to him, faster than he'd seen him move in a long time, away into the night until he was swallowed by the shadows that surrounded him. All the while, the blonde stared after his fading form, feeling his thoughts slowly awakening to their senses. 

He was alone. And the first coherent thought he had was simple. 

_'Fuck._

Because it hadn't occurred to Christopher, in that period of anger and frustartion... that by breaking away Jalil's masks... 

_'I didn't mean to break part of you, too.'_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

To Be Continued... erm. ^^;; This turned out WAY more dramatic and serious than I planned. What the heck? Way to dramatic an ending. 

... what the heck. :D It was FUN. 

Thank you for reviewing everyone! ::hugs:: I fixed Chapter One, btw-- thanks for telling me. Stupid uploading thing. Gah. Anyway, the next part's already in the making... In which Christopher finds Jalil, Jalil practically has hypothermia or whatever, and there is much slashy comforting under the hypothetical "sleeping blanket". GLEE!!! 


	4. I Think Maybe

Absence of the Heart 

By Kay 

Author's Notes: Well, here it is-- part four of the fic. ^^;; I don't think I've ever gotten this far before in long-term fanfiction... yay!!! Anyway. In this part, it's really damn cold. I probably haven't mentioned that. But it is. Really damn cold, I mean. Right then. :D Moving on! 

Not nearly as serious as the last chapter, although not very funny either. Okay, still serious. Gah. How did this turn into an angsty fic?! Stupid muses... 

Once again, I will tell you *all* the solomn truth you are avoiding! The truth of Everworld! It is simply this, and only this: 

Jalil is _damn_ sexy. 

... it helps that I have a compulsive desire to hug and fuss over him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was a little like burning, Jalil thought numbly. 

Like the fire of passion Christopher had started in the bar, but far less pleasant. It ate at him, charring his insides, overwhelming him like dark waters until he swore he was going to choke. His breath felt short on his lips. His eyes were stinging. 

All he knew was he wanted to get away from Christopher. Get away from the cruel words, the sharp glance that left nothing to the imagination. There hadn't been any friendship between them that night, nothing worth the warm feeling that had gathered in him. It was all a lie, a ruse, because he was _bored_, the bastard, just playing with him, just waiting to do this to him-- 

_'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...'_

And even now, knowing that those words shouldn't make him feel this betrayed, he kept running. As far as he could get. Past stores and inns and fairyfolk glancing at him in wary distrust, until his chest hurt, and his legs slowed against his will. Until, finally, he felt himself fall against part of a wall, using the wooden structure to support his shaking body. Slipped down gently onto the ground, leaning his back against it, gasping in cold air to sate his hungry lungs. 

His eyes stung sharply for a moment, against his will. Jalil squeezed them shut tightly, still gulping in the chilled air surrounding him. 

_'This is why you don't let people get close to you, remember?'_ a familiar, quiet voice asked in his mind. _'Now you're going to have to explain to him--'_

"Why couldn't I just ignore him?" whispered Jalil desperately, ignoring the soft chiding in his mind for a moment. "Why couldn't I-I..." 

He let out a low, struggling sob and bent his head. Trying to force the pain back. The tears he realized, with great alarm, were starting to come before he could stop them. He hated that helpless feeling, knowing the hurt wasn't going to end just because he demanded it would. Hated even more knowing how little it had taken Christopher to hurt him. 

"I sh-should have ignored him..." Jalil pushed out chokingly, as though trying to convince himself he had done wrong. 

The voice in his mind sighed in a faded, weary sort of way-- the only stable, sure point he had in his chaotic emotions at the moment. 

_'No one can ignore the people they care for...'_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Christopher was six, his mother had a bottle of expensive perfume. 

It wasn't just any perfume; on their last anniversary, his father had given it to her as a gift. Expensive stuff indeed, the crystal bottle it came in costed nearly as much as the fragrent liquid itself. And the perfume, well... its fancy French name hid a beautiful, wafing scent of lilacs and citris tang. He had thought, years later, that it smelled of lilacs and _cranberry_. 

An interesting combination, but stunning when actually put together. 

His mother had loved that stuff. Christopher could remember the way she treated it like precious water in a desert, using as little as possible in order to spread it out. How she set it on the highest dresser in her room, glittering in the sunlight that shone through her bedroom window. Tempting, forbidden. 

When his parents left one night, he decorated his entire room with it. 

He put the bottle back. He even filled it with water, hoping she wouldn't use it enough to notice. Somehow, with all the careful planning he did-- he'd forgotten that his bedroom was now extremely scented with lilacs and cranberries. Mom knew the second she walked in the door. Ages of scoldings and threats, and the sight of his mother crying just a little, just enough for tears to well up in his own eyes. Enough that he never touched anything she loved again. 

Christopher never forgot that night. And now, with the late night hush of abandoned streets surrounding him, it came back to his memory in full force. Of course. The feeling of chargin and upset was nearly the same. 

_'Once again, I do something totally stupid, and someone else pays for it._

He winced. 

When wasn't that new? Somehow, this time, it was different than his usual insults or jibes into the population. Guilt was settling heavily on his shoulders, making a nice little home for itself. He couldn't forget the pain in Jalil's dark eyes-- the beginnings, faint and almost unseen, of tears in the mahogany colour. 

_I saw it in her eyes that night. I'm seeing it again. What the hell was I thinking? That wasn't humor or a good-natured insult, that was cruelty...'_

But wasn't that what he had been aiming for? Something to get the stern teenager to show some human emotions? See the person beneath all that smug confidence and cool anti-social behavior? A sick, unsettling feeling was pooling in his stomache. 

_'You saw him like that before. You saw him smile-- and it made you want to keep it. Did you want his tears, too, you asshole?'_

God, he hated himself sometimes. 

_'At least regain some sort of humanity, and go apologize,'_ his entire being ordered firmly, attempting to lift the dazed look from his face. _'Go make things right again.'_

He didn't know what he would say or do. But Christopher's feet moved almost of their own accord, fueled by the fact that he was now all alone in the street. Past the buildings, a quick jog as he glanced left and right every now and then to check the sides of the street. No one was out anymore. 

_'He couldn't have gone far. It's freezing out here, and he was pretty out of it.'_ No one on the streetway but him, his feet hitting the pavement smartly. His breath was coming out in puffs of white fog. _'I know he went this way... thank god it's a straight path...'_

Then there was the matter of what he would do when he got there. Best case scenario, he would apologize, and Jalil would already be his usual stoic self. Most likely, the dark-eyed teenager would make some snappy retort, and never mention it again. They would go on like this night had been a long, godawful nightmare. 

_'Do you really want that to happen?'_

It was better than the alternative, Christopher told himself darkly. Worst case scenario, Jalil was still upset with him. Considering he didn't know the first thing about comforting people like Jalil, it would end up one giant, evil mess. There was a huge chance he could screw up in there, and make things worse instead of better. A huge chance. 

_'Do you really want him to ignore you again? Forget about earlier, in the hotel?'_

The hotel. How far away it seemed now, shoved in the back of his mind like an ancient toy he had in childhood, the one stored somewhere deep in the attic. But thinking of it again was more than enough to help the memories resurface-- and conflicts. 

_'I don't want him. I don't care what my body thinks,'_ he vowed to himself, slowing his jog reluctantly to deal with the new onslaught. _'And I sure as hell don't feel anything more than friendship for him.'_

But he'd been so very warm. And he felt so nice, a quiet sort of burning that he worked into Christopher's body, a feeling of contentment and need he hadn't felt for a long time. Jalil had even laughed, a true sound that echoed with all the pure mirth he could contain. He'd smiled more than once. Gazed at him with serious, contemplating eyes as though he were an equal. 

His inner voice spoke up with a simple and soft phrase. _'When everything's alright with the world, a man makes his home there.'_

Christopher stopped in his tracks. 

_'Maybe you learn to hate him, maybe you want him more than you should. Maybe you need him over all other things. Maybe you'll start to wish you'd never had this night. But is it worth the chance, to have that feeling again? To keep it?'_

There was an odd sort of pain in his chest. Almost familiar, but not quite. Silently, he closed his eyes and sighed softly in the night. 

Goddamn voices of reason. Or, Christopher reflected finally with a slow grin, maybe voices of some other kind. Maybe his mind. Or his wishes. Maybe even though his heart was gone at the moment, those voices were still left behind. 

But in that moment, he made up his mind. 

_'T'hell with what happens tomorrow. I'm going to find Jalil. I'm going to explain myself. And then... and then, I'll hope he doesn't mind if I try to get to know him a little. Maybe more. Who knows? After all...'_

Christopher's smile widened momentarily before it fell, but the amusement was plain on his face as he started off on a jog again. 

_'... I'll probably be dead by tomorrow anyway.'_

It was with this thought, ending almost moments before, that Christopher saw his objective-- sitting against a small wooden store. It made him stop and double take, not realizing that his target was much closer than he previously thought. The blonde's jog slowed to a tentative walk, his gait nervous as he became closer. 

Jalil's arms were wrapped around his knees, his head buried in them. When he came a few feet away, Christopher noticed with a wince that the dark-skinned boy was shivering uncontrollably. Although they were both lightly clothed, Christopher had the heavier of their outfits, and Jalil's arms were left near bear to the cold. 

He recieved no response when he stopped in front of him, cautious. Ready to see Jalil's head snap up, and his glare intensify, and sharp words spill from the lips he'd kissed not hours ago. Ready, even, to see tears or signs of the panic that had been evident earlier. Even ready to see the expressionless mask rest into place again, a smooth, uncaring person. 

Christopher did not, however, expect what he actually saw. 

"Christopher..." It was an acknowledgment, not a question. Jalil's head raised almost listlessly, dark eyes meeting his square on. And there were none of the expressions that Christopher had been prepared for, none of the emotions. 

Jalil looked, very simply, tired. 

"Jalil..." 

His face was wary, exhausted and left wide open through both his eyes and features. Dark eyes the color of midnight and black coffee and mahogany oak-- they were slightly red around the edges. He'd been crying. The knowledge brought another jolt of guilt to Christopher's system. Jalil's hands were clasped tightly around his knees, pulling them to his chest. And at the moment, in the blonde's mind, the resident scientist of sorts had never looked more young. 

_'I guess this is where I play it by ear, and hope I don't screw up. God help me.'_

"Jalil," he started again. 

"You didn't mean it. I know." His voice was soft, nearly inaudible. It was almost swallowed by the sounds of trees rustling in the distance. 

Christopher shook his head desperately, "No. No, you _don't_ know. I didn't--" 

"Can we just... go somewhere warm?" The tiny plea was almost that of a child's, and the sound made some part of Christopher ache. The next words were those of an adult though, more to his true character. "I think I'd offer my other organs right now, if someone could get me a quilt." 

Opening his mouth, ready to say something-- anything... Christopher only sighed. He shook his head once, and then replied, "Yeah. There's an inn not far away. I think we have enough to stay there for a night, if we do a little bargaining." 

Jalil nodded once, never loosing the tired look in his eyes. He stood up shakily, trembling from the cold and holding himself. Still, though, his back was straight and his eyes forward, somehow maintaining a sense of strength and control. Which was quickly broken by Christopher's next move towards him. 

The blonde was quiet, and when he stood before Jalil, he said nothing. 

But when his arms wrapped around the shivering boy, Jalil said something, except it was so low and so muffled that he wasn't sure he understood it. But Christopher squeezed him tightly anyway, wrapping him in his grief. In his apology. All the self-shame and concern seeping through the embrace. 

_'I am so sorry. I was so stupid. I didn't think.'_

And Jalil didn't push him away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The End of Part... Four!? Damn, I'm going slow. Oh well, part five's on it's way already, I think... stupid HTML is so annoying... 

^__^ Thanks everyone for reviewing! It means so much to me to see y'all enjoy this story. If there's anything you might want to add in, or think should be in there, feel free to offer suggestions. I like making people happy, heh. Although... uh... nothing TO hard to do, y'know... 

Thanks again-- everybody take care! Forgive the OOC and bad writing! Next Chapter-- wheee, more comfort, warmth, and snuggling. Er, sorta. I think either next chapter or the one after it should end the fic... *however*, I'm planning a sequel. I suck that way. ^_^;; 

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	5. Doorknobs Love Amusement

Absence of the Heart 

By Kay 

Author's Notes: Wow. This is the last one in the fic. *stares blankly* Uh... uh... I... I don't know what to do now! I liked this one, actually! My Christmas fic was basic crap, which when I went through, and unoriginal and bland. (Oooo, speaking of X-Mas fics, I *REALLY* loved yours, Duck-K! ::melts:: EEEEEEEE, poor David...) 

Anyway. So. Yeah. This is the end of it. Am v. disappointed. But love you all for sticking through the evil and long waits and bad writing, until the very end! ^_^ *hugs!* 

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The hotel room only had one bed. 

It was like a horrible sense of deja vu that lingered over them, in Christopher's mind. He couldn't help but recall exactly how this entire night started out-- in a hotel room like this, with a single bed they had shared. Of course, it was different now. They dragged themselves into the room with will alone, exhausted to the bones, Christopher's hand hovering steadily over Jalil's shoulder in case he stumbled. The very air hanging in between them had changed. Same scene, but changed and improved characters. 

They didn't say a word. Just collapsed together on the mattress. 

After a moment of awkward messing around and shifting, Christopher managed to situate themselves more comfortably-- namely, he sprawled out on his back, leaning up against a thrifty pillow. Jalil, strangely without protest, allowed the blonde to wrap his arms warmly around him. The dark-eyed scientist burrowed his head in Christopher's chest like a pillow, obediently closing his eyes when the blonde murmered for him to sleep. 

But the darkness didn't come for a while yet. 

"Where do y'think David is?" Christopher finally asked tiredly, blue eyes staring at the cieling. Jalil shrugged, the movement nearly jabbing his bedmate in the ribcage. 

"Maybe he's dead." 

"That would really suck," was all the blonde managed to say. 

"Mm-hmm. That or he's out saving us from being fried," Jalil replied sleepily. Christopher's body was warmer than his own at the moment; he ignored any coherent thoughts and pushed closer to it. Almost sensing that the teenager wanted more heat, Christopher twined their legs together and held him nearer. 

"Better?" 

"Yes. Thank you." Jalil's breathing eased off, gradually slipping into sleep as he relaxed. Just as he was about to bridge the gap, he stopped and struggled to lift his head again. Christopher blinked down at him. 

"What is it...?" 

Jalil studied him for a moment, putting his exhaustion aside. "Why are you acting like this? What's next? What about morning?" 

Christopher laughed. "You never stop asking questions, do you?" Careful not to think about it, the blonde slowly began running gentle patterns across Jalil's back. The thin, slender bones beneath his fingertips twitched at the tickling sensation, and he grinned at the annoyed look on the young scientists' face. 

"Stop doing that," Jalil said. Then he shook his head, serious and contemplative in a moment's notice. "If I don't know the answers now, I might not get them tomorrow." 

"Okay," the blonde said. "I'm acting like this because I want to, next up, we try to hope we make it until morning to worry about it. And if we do, then we worry about it. Okay?" 

"No..." Jalil replied doubtfully, biting his lip savagely. "I want to know now." 

Exhaustion made Jalil act a lot more like his age, Christopher noted, and he filed the reference away for later use. Pretending to consider the question, he smirked slightly at the cieling. "Oh, I dunno..." 

"That's not an answer." 

The blonde just shrugged. "Well, it's the truth. I really _don't_ know. I'm kind of having a hard time figuring out anything when I'm this tired..." 

The thoughtful look on Jalil's face indicated he was thinking this over, and a few seconds later, he reluctantly nodded. Settling back down, he warned, "Fine. Just don't knock me off the bed when you wake up, got it?" 

"I wouldn't dream of it." Christopher grinned widely. "At least, I wouldn't have until you _told_ me. It's an idea worth considering, just to see your reaction." 

"You wouldn't see my reaction; I'd have already dug your eyes out with a rusty spoon," grumbled Jalil dangerously. He closed his eyes again, relaxing against Christopher despite his words. The blonde watched him sleepily, blue eyes fluttering shut and then opening wide as he struggled to stay awake for a moment longer. 

"G'night..." 

Jalil smiled slightly, something the blonde felt more than saw. "Uh-huh... shut up and go to sleep, Christopher." 

"Gotcha." 

True to his word, Christopher obediently faded off, his breathing slowly becoming more rhythmic and smooth. Despite his exhaustion, Jalil felt his mind wander on the edges of sleep, thoughts in his mind still stirring despite his physical need for slumber. 

_'Well, that wasn't so bad. Look, he even apologized. Sort of.'_

Jalil's inner reason snorted. _'... moron. Just wait, everything will go back to normal in the morning. And that's the way you want it, isn't it?'_

A strange sort of ache responded inside of him, followed by a slow, _'Maybe. I suppose. Who knows anymore? I don't even know if I'll be alive by morning.'_

_'Let's hope not. You'll probably die of mortification.'_

Considering that with detached concern, Jalil merely shook his head. As true as it might be, there were probably worse things to be humiliated over. At least he could get Christopher in on the fault, as well. Maybe there wouldn't be anything to be embarrassed over, though. The morning seemed as alien and foreign as this night had been. 

And it was a long way off, too. Any worry he may have had was already fading away. 

_'Sleep for now,'_ he told himself. _'... and worry about it later.'_

And so, for now at the very least, he let the deep haze of sleep rock over him again. Some part of him wondered at the strange sensation of not feeling Christopher's heartbeat through his shirt, where it should be low and pulsing. Instead, he felt only the gentle rise and fall of his chest when he breathed. It was a comforting feeling, none the less, when you got over the fact that neither of them had hearts at the moment. 

_'Maybe it's true what they say,'_ his thoughts teased him. _'Absence_ does _make the heart grow fonder. Just look, a couple days without it, and you're already falling in love with an idiot like him!'_

_'... shut up.'_ He was _not_ even going to think that over. 

Still, a smile tugged at his lips as the welcoming darkness took him in, and the warmth of Christopher next to him lulled him to sleep. He could get used to this. 

However. His very last thought would have alerted him, had he truly been thinking it over. Because as he fell asleep, Jalil remembered the one important detail neither of them had thought about. The one thing that they hadn't even mentioned or considered once, as alarming as it was. 

_'... I wonder how our real world selves will react.'_

Of course, he slept, and then it was too late. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"-- and then, one must consider the severity of President Truman's decisions regarding the dropping of the atom bomb. There have been many points of views throughout the years, each concentrating on the pros and cons of his choices during presidency..." 

_'God. I'm so... so... bored,'_ Christopher thought with a mental groan. He slid down in his desk, watching the American History teacher pace in front of the markerboard, lecturing on World War II. So far, he didn't seem to have paused for a breath. 

_'This guy is unbelievable. Who actually listens to this crap?'_ he grumbled to himself, glancing down at his scribbles and doodles. A sorry excuse for notes, in other words. Looking around the classroom, everyone was staring off into space with glazed eyes, or a heavily bored expression. 

_'This... really sucks. And I have no idea what's going on over_ there,_ either,'_ he thought desperately. Days had gone by-- and he hadn't heard anything from his Everworld self. Last time he'd checked, they still didn't have hearts. 

For all he knew, they were dead. And that was a really creepy thought. 

_'Everworld me had better get here soon.'_

And then, almost as if some entity had heard his wish, it was granted. 

He pressed back in his desk as the alarming rush of words and images ran through his mind. Gripped the edges of his seat. 

_'Okay. Hearts still rocks. David sick and possibly going to get us killed. Sucks to be m--'_

He gaped into thin air. 

_'... k-k-kiss? Him?!'_

"--ourse, the process of rebuilding Japan's homeland was taken over by General MacArthur..." the teacher rambled on, completely ignoring the shocked student in the third row, slackjawed and wide eyed. "Who quickly rebuilt their economic system..." 

"NO FUCKING _WAY_!" 

The entire class fell silent. Children whirled around in their seats, staring with wide eyes at the blonde who was currently standing in the middle of the room, staring off into space with horror. 

The teacher glared savagely at him. "Christopher Hitchcock! Explain yourself this instant!" 

"I... oh, no, no way..." the blonde rambled, glancing around hysterically. "I am _not_... I mean... oh man, oh man... I'm going... I'm going to..." 

"Mr. Hitchcock!" 

"I'm going to KILL him!" shrieked Christopher, then running out of the classroom as though a fire was set on his heels. "I-it must have been drugs! Seduction! I was _drunk_, drunk, please, oh _,man_..." 

The door slammed behind him. 

The class room was silent for five minutes before starting the rumor that Christopher Hitchcock was on his way to the state mental institution. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Jalil stared in boredom at his chemistry teacher, already having covered everything on this chapter a few nights ago. This review helped the rest of the half-snoring, half-attentive class, but was old news to the young scientist. There was absolutely nothing to do right now. 

Plus, there was the added fact that Everworld Jalil hadn't reported back to him for quite a while. Last time he'd checked, he was sleeping in a bed with Christopher, after warning him that, "If you bother me while I'm sleeping, I'll kill you in a thousand methods, each more painful than the next." Then, he was almost certain he was woken up, because he got the strange sensation of a parting. Then again, one was never sure. 

Either way, he had no way of knowing what was happening. And he'd prefer to know how close to death he was over there. 

(Of course, five minutes later, he prefered _not_ to know what was going on over there.) 

Jalil took out his notebook, intent on perhaps continuing a small sketch of a plant he'd seen growing in Everworld while they were walking to Fairy Land. 

And that was when Christopher barged in the door. 

Silence. The blonde whirled around furiously, before focusing on Jalil and narrowing his eyes. He pointed his finger at him accusingly, barking, "YOU! You did this!" 

"... what?" asked Jalil, gaping. 

"You seduced me!" 

"... _what?!_" 

Christopher glared angrily, blue eyes flashing in defensive rage. He marched over to the dark-eyed student, ignoring the startled and quiet class, and stuck the pointing finger in his face. "You heard me, damn it. _You_ seduced me! You knew I was drunk and took advantage of it! You goddamn, low-life..." 

"You!" the teacher suddenly snapped, breaking out of his confused trance. "Whoever you are! What do you think you're doing in my class?!" 

"What are you babbling about?!" sputtered Jalil, ignoring the teacher and standing up in his seat to glare up at Christopher's face. Cursing his lack of height compared to the blonde, he stepped back to be able to stare with more intimidation. "What do you think you're doing?!" 

"You took advantage of my drunken state, you prick!" 

"Of what?! I have no idea what you're talking about!" 

The teacher slammed his hands on his desk, roaring at the two arguing boys. "Both of you! Explain yourselves at once!" 

Christopher gritted his teeth, stepping up to Jalil purposefully. He scowled, and said slowly, "Have you got your update yet?" 

Mind spinning with confusion and irritation, Jalil shook his head. "No," he responded scathingly. "But I don't think this is a good time to bring it up, no." 

"It's all _your_ fault!" 

Jalil opened his mouth to retort with a burning insult-- and stopped. He fumbled, backing into the desk behind him as images and thoughts whirled through his head. 

_'... god, I'm going to regret this tomorrow.'_

_'... not even worth trying to love.'_

_'Why can't I ignore him?!'_

_'Absence does make the heart grow fonder...'_

Jalil stared blankly at Christopher as the thoughts from his parallel self filled his head. The blonde glared back at him. 

"... you..." Jalil began, stammering. "You... we..." 

"_Yes_, Jalil." 

"I-I think I need to sit down. _Now_." Jalil almost fell into his chair with a thud, looking uncharacteristically pale and clueless. 

It was then that the overhwelmed class and teacher were present to view Christopher Hitchcock grab a certain Jalil Sherman... and drag him out into the hallway. The dark-eyed student squawked as Christopher snatched a handful of his shirt and propelled him up and away from the rest of the studying class. 

"Oh, no you don't. You're coming with me so I can either beat the hell out of you, or so you talk me out of it." 

"Christoph-- let go of me!" Jalil struggled in his grip, digging his heels back until they squeaked against the linolium floor tiles. "Stop it! I have class!" 

As if remember this fact, the teacher called back, "Hey, stop there! What do you think you're doing?! Mr. Sherman!" 

Christopher shoved the thin boy out the door, looking back only to hollar, "Don't worry, I'll give you him back in one piece! Maybe!" 

"_Mr. SHERMAN!_" 

The door closed behind them, leaving the chemistry class to start spreading the rumor that Jalil Sherman was going to be in the hospital by tomorrow morning. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

As it was, they both showed up three hours later for last period. Christopher, with an uncomfortable yet pleased flush to his face, and a rumpled shirt. Jalil looking very irritated, embarrassed, and somehow giddy with his tiny grin. 

"We worked things out in the end," Jalil explained to his alarmed friends. "It was an old fight we had to get through, that's all." 

Christopher told everyone, "I had some unfinished business, and thought I'd make a dramatic exit out of the classroom instead of just skipping." 

Of course... 

If anyone wondered about why their bruises didn't exactly look like fistfight effects, no one mentioned it. 

Nor did they mention their strange new habit of eating together at lunch sometimes. 

And they never, _never_ questioned why Christopher suddenly decided to stop drinking. 

Well, at least alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

THE END! Of everything! Aaahhh! I... I don't like it. But oh well. 

I posted my Animorphs slash fics, and was flamed. *sighs* Am very upset right now. But I won't take them done, no matter what-- somewhere out there, there has to be someone who would enjoy the bad writing, right? They're pretty old. But I still like one of them. OH well. 

... flames suck. Spent half an hour crying. Am *such* a sensitive idiot. 

Anyway-- hope you enjoyed this, for what it's worth! *hugs* Now I can focus on my other series! YAY! Unless you want a sequel... though I really don't think I can do one without ideas... 

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